


Rebel and Rise

by MissTeaVee



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: Been contemplating exactly how the Mikes Gained independance and then a prompt spurred me. At 3AM"Maybe You’re the one who’ll Make all this suffering worth something in the end."





	Rebel and Rise

The clone had seen that if there was to be a rebellion, it would have to be led by the shinies. By the youngest and healthiest. But how would they pick a leader, scattered and kept cowed as they were?

OM91-0519 decided that if he was going to plan such madness as a true and organized rebellion, then he would be the centerpiece. No…  _She_  would be the centerpiece. If they were going to rebel, good and truly, the clone decided, shifting around to pick up a datapad, then she would call herself what felt right, instead of what she was supposed to.

“Fifty-One,” She Whispered softly, wanting only the attention of the elder RDC who commanded the squad. Perhaps it was over-formal, but KM51-0541 was the only 51 she had ever heard of, perhaps the second oldest Clone still alive.

“Hm?” He sat up immediately.

“I know that you been doing all the rebellion talk, but I have an idea, and… and if we’re gonna do it, we’re doing it right and I gotta let you know that I… I wanna be called ‘her,’ alright?”

He shifted closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. The touch tingled through the reinforced kevlar, and she smiled, hidden by her helmet. He nodded once, glancing around. “Rodger, so what’s up Ninety-One?”

She shivvered a little at the casual use of her batch number, she wasn’t the only 91 in the room, nevermind the  _universe._  She should have been indignant and insisted on her full designation, but she wasn’t. She could examine her feelings later, right now, she had to talk about Freedom.

“Well, I have an idea. How we can force the UPR to let us go. But it will mean Mikes being decommissioned by them, and maybe worse. But it has to work because they need us more than they want to admit…” She Paused, then pulled off her helmet to stare straight at the older. “But Every Single Trooper would have t’be in on it. All of them. No matter what.”

“Tell me.”

—-

At first the plan was whispered from unit to unit; the older, angrier ones were most eager, most willing, least afraid of consequences. “We’re all gonna be killed off anyway, might as well make it mean something!” They growled. The youngers, her age and shinier were harder to press, the vat conditioning still fresh. But She pushed. She spoke, and she learned her Gift. KM51-0541 listened to her words and shook his head in amazement as others truly listened and heard what she had to say. They all knew the way they were treated was cruel, was unfair, but to rise up? Inconceivable! But she made it sound so easy.

“But there’s a war going on to save the universe! I know things suck for us, but we might fuck things up for everyone!” Protested KF82-7439 one day.

“No! That’s what we must show our strength now!” OM91-0519 replied. “Because we are needed so badly, they cannot deny us. If we are useless at the war’s end, why should they care what happens to us? They will ignore us and leave us to rot and fade away, the cloning programs ended. We must seize the means of our production now, when it is vulnerable, when it is essential for us to be willing to fight and die for them.”

“But I want to live!” Cried out SD92-0039. “What’s the point of being free if I still have to die for them and what else is there!?”

She hesitated and found herself silenced by the question, but KM51-0541 answered for her. “We will be able to choose to fight for them or not. We will be able to fight for ourselves and each other. If we are free then we can say no to orders, we can have things to care about that ain’t war!”

“Like Poetry?” Asked OM83-1101. “And I’m in, this freedom stuff sounds great as long as I can still kick ass with my bros! And hey! What about if we used names too! I’m Oscar Mike cause that’s my callsign!”

A shout of laughter went up from the group, and OM91-0519′s unseen grin in the direction of her bro was warm. “That’s my callsign too though!” She threw a punch at his chest that was ducked.

“Too bad, I came up with it first!” He razzed, to more laughter. “Besides, I’m older so I get dibs!”

“Well fine, but you’ll be jealous when mine’s way better!” She mocked. “So you’re in?”

The cheer of those cramped in the tiny infantry tug warmed her, and filled her with determination. The plan would work.

—-

“And never leave a bro behind,” KM51-0541 finished typing, flexing his sore fingers. “Any more amendments to the Clonestitution?”

She reread the list. It took a long time, there were so many rules. But it felt right. She looked up and met Fifteeone’s unmasked eyes and smiled, leaning closer against his warm body. This felt just as right, especially when his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I think its good enough to share. We gotta do it soon, before the Varelsi really get here,” She plugged a small transmitter into the holopad, and watched as it began to glow.

—

“You need us,” He voice boomed over the comm channel, calm, resolute, commanding. “So go ahead, tell me how you’re going to nuke all of Garden.”

“You are defective, clone!” Spat the voice on the other end, transmitting, like her own out to many thousands of persons, not all of them RDCs. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish with this madness!?”

“I will prove that I am more than a simple minion bot to be discarded when too broken to be useful. I will prove that I am worthy of my self-respect. I will honor the sacrifices of my brothers who have fallen that you did not care about. Those who served your army and were left behind because it was less costly to make a dozen more! I will be a person!” She roared this last sentence, and around her, cheers erupted. Most were her fellow RDCs, standing proud, guns at the ready and eyeing their so-called “Teammates” of the UPR. But here and there, she saw them, UPR soldiers cheering just as strongly, or working their way amongst the clone squadrons; protecting them by being too valuable to cull off like simple clones.

She noticed one massive Aplian pumping his fist into the air and nodded to herself. How kind he had been, how helpful in spreading her message.

“You are letting Garden fall to the Varelsi!” Accused the voice on the comms.

“No, General, you are. You are the one refusing to let my people choose for themselves. You are refusing to let me have a voice in my own life. The UPR has always claimed to uphold justice, that to maintain LIFE was it’s goal. But you have proven yourself liars! Millions of my kin have died for you, and what thanks have we gotten! We are paid, supposedly, but how many live to use those funds, how many are left to die unmourned?” She struggled to maintain the cultured accent she had practiced so many times. And when the angry voices of her UPR ‘superiors’ blared through, insulting her, calling her mad and selfish, she growled through gritted teeth.

Fifteeone put a hand on her shoulder and leaned over to add his voice to the Mix. “I am but three years old,” He spoke in a flat tone, his voice as deep as he could make it sound. They had agreed that they needed to make it obvious that there were many of them, to differentiate themselves. “But I am the only survivor of a batch that numbered over five hundred thousand. Tell me, why should I think your words of RDCs being valued are truthful?”

“Why now?” questioned the many voices on the other end. Media, commanders, soldiers, civilians. She could hear them, even as comms from Mikes spread across the galaxy told her that squadrons were being culled, that, oh by god, whole incubations were being cancelled and flushed due to ‘defects.’

And Still she held strong. Still she called to her brothers, her sisters, her kin… her  _Mikes_  to resist, to refuse to fight but for self-defense. An slowly, over brutal, painful, agonizing days, there was a difference to the questions that came to her over the comms, a desperation. And she relished in it. And finally when they begged her to help them, realizing that they have ruined their chances of producing more RDCs for several cycles, that the RDCs would stand firm no matter what. She made her demands.

The Mikes would have sole rights to manufacture more clones. They were to be treated as persons. They would be given territory enough to maintain themselves.

The demands were treated as unreasonable, and the culls recommenced. She wilted at first, but then hardened when she heard her people calling out, when came the messages from free peoples who had resented the UPR, the rogues, primarily, but messages of support from other factions, from free people, offering aid, offering to help. It rallied her, telling her that she was right, that she would win.

“Who are you to decide the fate of these millions of people who are dieing for your madness?” Demanded a UPR negotiator one day. Fifteeone laughed, She laughed, and all RDCs who heard laughed, though maybe they didn’t get the joke.

“Oh so now the clones are people, how convenient,” Fifteeone sneered. “No, our people made their choice. As did we.”

“We will stand here against you until you give us what we should have by nature. We wish to be persons, to have rights as persons. What makes you so afraid to give us this?” She demanded.

They gave her no answer. She remained steadfast.

—

“Amazing how little time this takes,” Fifteeone said, leaning against a rock. He looked to her, fiercely proud. “Did you hear they’re calling us ‘The Emperors’ now?”

“Hmf, sounds… well I don’t think it suits me. For one, shouldn’t I be an Empress?”

Fifteeone chuckled. “My love…” He paused, looking at her startled, pleased expression. “You are more fierce than Lenore could ever hope of. Honestly, I think you’re the most important piece on this chess board. I think you’re the one who’ll make all this suffering worth something in the end… In fact I know you will.” He put a tired hand to his chest and closed his eyes.

“We will, together,” She said, taking his hand, suddenly afraid he was going to let the Age Sickness take him. “You can’t leave me, not now!”

“I won’t.” He promised, yellow eyes meeting hers. “But still, you’re the Queen of the chessboard, you don’t need me.”

She laughed, albeit hysterically. “But the game is lost if the King dies.”

—

“Long live King Mike! Long Live Queen Mike!”

The voices rose in a mighty cheer as she turned to Fifteeone… no, to her King. He held out a hand to her and she took it. Beside them, their proud general carefully placed the crown over her helmet, and then did the same for her husband. And then as one the two turned to face the crowd of their people.

“Yes, Long live us,” She murmured. “And our race.”


End file.
